All I Couldn't Do
by Kyouko.Nashida
Summary: Glinda wonders what Elphaba meant by saying Glinda could do what she couldn't do, all those years ago. Multiverse. Glinda's POV.  Kinda bad summary, but oh well! Sort of Gelphie.


A/N: This is Multiverse. And Gelphie, sort of. And I just suddenly felt the need to write this, and so I did. Yep. Probably just a oneshot. And, yeah, I know it isn't all that good, but... I hope you enjoy it, anyway!

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><p><em><strong>All I Couldn't Do<strong>_

_** "And just look at you—you can do all I couldn't do, Glinda."**_

What was it, Elphie, that you couldn't do, anyhow? You couldn't submit yourself to the crooked will of a liar to raise your social status? You couldn't do that, that's true. But why would you have wanted to? Surely, you didn't. And yet, you said _I_ could do something _you_ couldn't. How could that possibly be true? _You _excelled in sorcery, _you_ stood up for yourself, and for what you believed was right, _you_ changed this world, in ways most of the inhabitants aren't aware of.

It was because of you that the Animal Rights Movement really got started all those years ago, because they _believed_ in you, and you showed people the path of Good. The reply of the people was different, though. Wicked, they called you. You may have only done one or two Wicked things in your entire life, and I believe they were justified, in the end.

The people call _me_ Good, but what could I do? I willingly gave up my feelings to serve the man I knew was in the wrong, just so I would be noticed. And _I _was the one who foolishly told those two monsters that your weakness was your sister. Dorothy didn't kill Nessa, Elphaba. I did. My selfishness killed her, and my selfishness forced you to be all alone in your final years. Sure, you had some brief time with Fiyero, but I feel as if I was the one who let him die, too. Then you had nothing. I took it all away from you.

Think of what I _could_ have done with all the options laid in front of me! My, I may have even been able to save you—you, the girl who was so strong, so determined, so brave and just and right, and, and, well, _Good_. But I didn't save you. I didn't allow myself to realize that that was the one thing I could do that you couldn't. Not until it was too late.

All the things I couldn't—wouldn't do—you did. That's why, even after ten long, dull years without your life giving the world its spark, I still think about how I should have been the one to say that line. To show you how proud I was of all the progress you made for this world. People and Animals alike are happier now—you _did_ it, oh the things you _did_! And you'll never get to see this world, this new, smiling, changing world. And that was because of me, too. It was as if my Wickedness just couldn't be satisfied just by taking the people you treasured most, it had to swallow you, too. All of Oz had to scorn you, you had to be entirely isolated, before Wicked would be done feeding.

The rest of the world now is seeing the light, and moving towards it. All except for me. All except for Glinda the Good. Because you were the fire in my life, and I just ran away from it. Like a fool, a coward, a spoiled brat. I ran from the greatest warmth, the most enormous treasure in my life, and I let her die. I let you die, Elphie. And I may never get over that fact. Despite my promise to you, to never clear your name, I have slowly been changing views of you, altering the sinful things they call you in history books. Silently, but surely, uncovering pieces of the truth to the citizens of Oz. Forgive me, you pretty mean thing. I could only take so much of the people _celebrating_ the death of the woman I secretly loved—well, love.

Do you remember when I tried to seduce you a few nights after Fiyero's ball? How we both laughed at my joke, because we were both women, and I was high on the social ladder, while you were as low as one could be. You were supposedly hideous, you were green, and I was supposedly gorgeous, and a normal color, if a bit pale. I still don't know if that part of the joke hurt you, it was so callous of me. That night, we just brushed off the 'joke', and I never told you that I was actually seriously curious about touching you, feeling you, being with you. Even still, after a while, we did have sex. You seemed to believe I just wanted a masturbation partner, someone to pass the time. And so I could never let myself call out your name as you pleasured me. I choked it back, and said no name. Usually, I said nothing at all. I knew that if I tried, your name would manage to escape. That would be unseemly. But that unseemliness wasn't what concerned me. I was afraid that your touch would stop, that everything would stop, if you knew I was serious about you.

We loved each other, but each of us in a different way. I never, ever told you that I loved you, not in any way at all. But I remember when you first told me you loved me, just as a friend, of course, my heart still soared. However, I couldn't let anyone know that was how I really felt. I teased you lightly, saying you sounded too romantic about it. It was more that I had _wished_ it was romantic, but I knew better. And I knew better when we slept together, even for that last time on the way to the Emerald City. Even when you kissed me goodbye, even when we fought, when we made up, when you died. I knew better than to let myself believe you loved me the way I did you. But, I have to admit, it was hard to keep that hope away. You were always so sweet, even when you were being harsh, there was a certain tenderness to it. What a magnificent love you had! An unexplainable love of this whole damned world that hated you so much. I know you loved every leaf, every breath, every bug, every Animal, Person, book... Deep down, you did. You were afraid to show it, but I know that love was there. You covered it with a cruel face and brutal words. But it was there.

Why couldn't I ever tell you I loved you? I still do, but there is no way for me to tell you now. Yes, I know I was afraid. I was scared from the moment I realized I loved you—another woman. Yet, I could have masked it, told you I loved you as a friend. Even just saying I liked to be around you! My idiocy never ceases to appall me these days, when I look back. You died without knowing that there was still one person, still someone out there, who loved you. You died alone. That is the one other thing I maybe could have done that you couldn't do on your own—given you someone to love you when you died. Then you wouldn't have been entirely alone. But I couldn't even do that much.

I'm not so much of a coward anymore. I don't want to make the same foolish mistakes again. When I care about anyone now, I always let them know. When the innocent are in danger, I endanger myself to protect them. When someone is just a little bit different from the rest of us, I do all I can to let them know that I will keep them as safe as I can. I don't want anyone to die feeling as alone as you must have. Not again. I want to be part of the Good you made in this world.

Maybe that's what you _meant_ when you told me I could do things you couldn't. Except, it was more of you couldn't because you were going to die, not that you were incapable. Maybe you knew that somewhere deep within me, there was Good. So you reached in and pulled it up, enough so that I just had to break the Wickedness on my surface. Maybe you knew I could follow your beliefs, that I...

Maybe—just maybe—you knew that, because this world knew you, it has been changed for the better—for Good.

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><p>AN: Thanks for reading! It means a lot to me =D And, for those who are following my Victorious story, I will be continuing it within the next month. I am so, so sorry for the dreadfully long wait. Thanks again!


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